


The Chess Masters

by Chokiba



Series: The Game Masters [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beginnings, Chess, F/M, Games, Gen, M/M, Manipulation, Multi, Riddle Era Hogwarts, chess strategy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 04:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chokiba/pseuds/Chokiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started as just a game. A simple wager to see who was more clever. But even Wizard's chess grows dull after a time and when two chess masters come face to face: they will do anything to see who is the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Riddle's Domain

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins in the Spring of 1942 which means that Tom has just recently turned fifteen and is still in his fourth year at Hogwarts.

Tom Riddle looked around the Slytherin Common Room and felt a sense of pride. After all, the room was his throne room in a manner of speaking. Here no one looked won on him. No one questioned him. He belonged and that was all he had ever really wanted. Was that so much for a boy of fifteen to ask of the world?

Come the summer he would be a nobody again. The thought had his lip curling into a snarl. He hated the thought of going back to that damn place. But of course no one at the school understood. How could they when he refused to tell anyone the truth of the matter.

Running a hand through his dark hair, the boy took a cursory glance around the room. Felix and Abraxas were deep in conversation, no doubt about what they would be doing once the summer ended. After all, it was the last year for both of them. They were looking forward to the things that they would get to do soon. As long as they stayed in contact with him, Tom didn't really care what any of them did. After all, they were all just pawns, a way to show his power and his status in the wizarding world. If they wanted to think that they were his friends than he was glad to allow them that delusion.

In another part of the room, Antonin, Phileas, and Evan were tormenting the soft-hearted Alphard while his older sister looked on without doing a thing. It was rather amazing to Tom really. The whole structure of a family. Walburga always seemed ready to jump to the defense of her younger brother Cygnus or his two silly friends Orion and Phineas, but when it came to Alphard it was if she could bring herself to be bothered.

Was that what all families were like? There was one who just wasn't loved? Maybe that had been him.

An uncharacteristic pain shot through him in the vicinity of his heart and he gritted his teeth, forcing the thought away. The boy had learned at an early age that thinking about his family was futile. He might never know about them. And what could would it do him to dream about them if he would never know them? No, it was better for him to focus on his present and the things that he could control.

"You look awful thoughtful Tom."

Looking back over his shoulder, Tom surveyed and dismissed the eldest Burke girl. Maretta was her name. She was a rather plain thing with a squished face. She had more brains than discretion and he hated that about her. But he also knew that it was best, in this kind of situation, to play nice to a girl of such a distinguished family. "I'm always thoughtful," he countered working hard to keep the censure from his voice. "It's a rather naughty habit I'll confess. I'm told it makes me look too pensive."

The girl laughed. "It does," she agreed. "You get these crinkles in your forehead and around your eyes. They're rather unattractive. You're too pretty for that."

"And you're too stupid to be flirting with a boy when you have a fiancee waiting for you."

Tom's lips twitched at the sound of the acidic words. Maretta might be annoying, but her younger sister Elladora was another matter entirely. A year younger than him, though she did share his year, Tom was fairly certain that Elladora had inherited her sister's share of charm and beauty along with her own portion from the family. Though she could have quite the bite when she wanted to.

Maretta pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest. "There's no need to be cruel Ella," her sister snapped back. "I was only making some conversation."

"Is that what they call flirting these days?" Elladora asked sweetly. "I'll have to remember that the next time that I speak to Lucas Greengrass. I'm certain he'll be pleased to hear how many men you love to make conversation with."

Maretta's face turned an odd mottled color as she spun around and stormed out of the common room. Tom watched her vanish before turning back to the younger sister. "You, Miss Burke, take entirely too much pleasure from tormenting your sister."

Elladora shrugged as she clasped her hands behind her back. "Someone should set my sister on the right path. The last thing I want to see her doing is embarrassing the family by playing the little whore that she is. The day she realizes what a beauty she is not, I shall happily resign my duties," she said simply.

There was something in that ruthlessness that Tom could admire. It was yet another odd example of family that he had seen during his time at Hogwarts. "So did you stop by simply to save me from your sister's mechanisms?" he asked.

"Oh no, but that was most certainly a benefit," the girl granted. "Actually, I just came from the Great Hall and Professor Dumbledore asked that I... _summon_ you to his office immediately."

Tom surveyed the girl carefully. He couldn't tell if she lying or not but she was smiling and she seemed very pleased with the news that she was delivering to him. "Oh does he?" he asked arching an eyebrow. He had never particularly cared for Dumbledore. Though he would always have one thing to thank the man for: Dumbledore had given him this world. That was something he would always owe the man for.

"Yes," Elladora assured him. "And he seemed quite insistent on it. No idea why, of course. He did not seem particularly interested in sharing his reasons."

He continued watching her for a few moments before he sighed and forced himself up from his chair. "Well than, I suppose I should not keep the good professor waiting."

Elladora arched an eyebrow as if she wanted to say something but then thought better of it. "I suppose we shall see you at supper then," she granted waving a hand as if she could dismiss him of all people!

The girl had plenty of cheek. Instead of feeling the need to reprimand her, he actually enjoyed it. Tom bowed to the younger girl as she sat down. "As you wish," he agreed. He straightened and clasped his arms behind his back as he turned and started back towards the entrance to the dungeons. The boys who followed him drew to attention when they saw his movement, but a wave of his hands had them turned back towards their own activities.

He did not need his followers to face Dumbledore. The man did many things, but hurting a student, even one whom he seemed to mistrust, was not a thing which the man could be named for. Besides, Dumbledore might actually have something interesting to say for once.


	2. A Game of Chess

Albus Dumbledore stood at one of the many windows in his office looking out over the school grounds. It was a beautiful place, Hogwarts. It likely had been since the day of its creation. But there was something dark coming from it. He could feel it. A quiet whisper in the air that crawled across his skin. It had been a mistake to bring Tom Riddle to the school. He had known it from the moment he had set eyes on the boy, but he had hoped, some foolish part of him had hoped and it had gotten him nowhere in the end. Now, he was almost certain of it, the boy was a ticking time bomb.

The professor simply didn't know what the boy was waiting for.

A knock came on the door and Albus called out a little more tersely than he meant to. He had been on edge lately, but that was no excuse for his tone. He knew better than that. But the words were out now and could not be taken back. Nothing could be undone. The woman who slipped inside might have looked frail covered as she was by her robes. She had only started the year before and Albus had decided he thought quite well of her, that much worse that he had snapped at her. "I'm sorry Albus, am I disturbing you?"

"No, of course not Rolanda. Please, come in," he insisted as he stood and waved a hand, the chair across from him pulling itself out in an invitation to her. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm worried about Zenobia," she confessed. Albus sat back down in his chair and frowned. He did not socialize the with serene divination professor very much. Then again, Albus couldn't say that he was very much a student of either serenity or divination which probably explained why the two seemed to never agree with each other. "She's been complaining about headaches lately Albus. As if someone's trying to get into her head."

Albus's frown deepened as he leaned forward. Now that had his interest. "Are you absolutely certain that's what she said?"

The younger woman hesitated a moment as she leaned back. "Well, not exactly," she confessed. "But that's what it sounds like Albus!"

The man sighed, feeling some of the tension leave his body. Someone using Legilimency was not something he wanted to worry about. It wasn't even a thought that he wanted to entertain for any amount of time. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about overmuch Rolanda. Zenobia is likely worried about her relative on the continent. And who could blame her for that?"

The woman sighed. "Perhaps," she granted, yellow eyes filling with uncertainty. "It just...it worries me."

Standing up, Albus moved around the desk and rested a hand on Rolanda Hooch's shoulder. "Of course you're worried my dear. She is your friend. It would be remiss of you not to worry."

Rolanda seemed to consider that for several moments before she rose to her feet. "Of course," she agreed giving him a shaky smile. "I-"

"You did what you thought was right," he cut her off trying to comfort her. "It will all be fine Rolanda. Why don't you take her some tea and chocolate. I'm sure she'll appreciate the thought."

The flying instructor nodded and murmured her thanks before turning towards the door as it swung open. "Oh, I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore, Madame Hooch. I didn't mean to interrupt you both. Elladora Burke told me that you wanted to see me, professor?"

"Yes I did," Albus nodded feeling a little imperious as he swept around his desk and settled, once more, into his chair. He was not a nice person around Tom Riddle and he wasn't sure if he blamed the boy or himself for that. "And please Rolanda, if you have any other concerns, my door is always open."

The woman gave him a genuine smile and Albus took a little bit of comfort in that. He was silent as Rolanda shut the door behind her and moved down the hall before he turned his attention carefully to Tom Riddle. The boy was growing tall and lean, a handsome face and smile, but there was a cynical, jaded look in his eye that no one else ever seemed to notice.

"Please, sit Tom. I'm glad that Elladora was able to find you."

The boy took a seat carefully, studying Albus as he did everyone. Those dark eyes were so cold, so calculating, barely human in the older man's opinion, but he didn't want to give up hope on the boy jut yet. That seemed wrong. Tom was only a child after all. There still had to be something good and some hope for the boy yet. He just had to find it. "What can I do for you professor?"

Albus steepled his fingers as he surveyed the boy back. He was silent for several moments as if carefully choosing his words. "Do you play chess Tom?"

"I dabble," the boy said warily. "Why do you ask sir?"

Now here was the moment. Caution, he had to remind himself. Caution was the key to this. He had seen the way that the boy moved, the way that he thought. It was clear to Albus that the boy had an analytical mind. This plan, this little endeavor could backfire just as easily and just as terribly as it could work. "I wondering if you perhaps you would entertain an old man with a game or two."

The boy titled his head to the side as he watched the professor, as if he was weighing the consequences of each answer that he could possibly give. "Alright," he allowed. "If you would like I should be glad to play a game or two with you."

Albus stood up and swept across the room, pulling the case down from the top of one of the many shelves that ringed the room. He carefully set up the board, placing the ivory and ebony pieces carefully across the heavy wooden board. The pieces were worn, but well-cared for. The Wizarding Chess set brought up some very old memories for Albus. Memories that he usually tried to keep buried deep within him. Guilt had never been a mantle that had settled easy on the man's shoulders, ironic given the fact that he had so craved power, despite every good intention he had ever claimed to have.

"White or black?" Albus asked, his fingers resting lightly on the side of the board.

Tom leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Albus's own. Silently, the boy shifted the board until the black pieces sat in front of him. "I defer to you professor," he said inclining his head.

Albus leaned back in his chair and called out the first move of the game.


	3. So Many Thoughts

Tom sat in the back of the History of Magic classroom, lost in thought rather than paying attention to the lesson. Then again, most people used Professor Binn's class as a chance to catch up on sleep if they needed it. So honestly, Tom was currently a step ahead of most of the others. But that wasn't the point in all of this. He wanted to know why Professor Dumbledore had called him in to play chess the night before. They had spent last night playing a total of three games before the professor had begged off for sleep. Honestly, Tom had found himself rather invigorated by at all. What he didn't understand was why the professor had wanted.

It would be curious to discover, if he could, what the professor's motives were. Everyone had a motive after all. Tom had learned that very quickly over the years and through his childhood. Only a fool took something at face value and Tom Riddle had never fancied himself to be a fool.

It left him with too many questions, too much to think about. Then again, Tom was always thinking. He was always calculating and working things over. People were tools to be used. Everything was a carefully planned move to be executed at just the right moment. Since he had come to Hogwarts, he had learned that he had to control his actions. He couldn't simply act out against those he didn't like, against those who dared to mock him. He had to be careful or else they could take all of this away from him. Wasn't it bad enough that he had to go back to that wretched orphanage every summer where they simply laughed at him?

No, Tom was a very careful boy and if Professor Dumbledore wanted to play a few rounds of chess with him, than he would agree to it. At least until he could figure out why and then he would plan accordingly.

The class was dismissed and Tom stood up, carefully gathering his books and papers as he did and sorting them into his bag with a methodical and time-tried patience. There was a certain pattern to it as he sorted all of his supplies. He hated when things were out of order. Everything had to have a purpose. It was probably why he enjoyed the game of chess so much. In chess there was nothing random, there was no luck or chance. It was all in a perfect order. All with purpose. Exactly what he wanted in the world.

He slid the bag over his shoulder and moved silently out of the classroom, one of the last ones to leave in fact. But that wasn't actually very surprising given the fact that most people hated the class and the way that Professor Binns taught it. There were actually rather fascinating tidbits if a person knew when it listen, but most preferred to simply sleep or do other assignments instead. And on some level, what was left of the child in him, might not have even blamed them for it. But he was not that anymore, that was if he had ever truly been a child at all.

Striding down the hall, Tom silently counted the steps a he moved. It wasn't a habit he cared to indulge in very often, but at times like now when thoughts seemed to be his only companion, the old habits were hard to ignore. Not that anyone ever noticed them. Tom was very careful about that. He could not allow for any sign of weakness on his part. He had built up his power at Hogwarts over the years and had done so with an almost unrivaled ambition. Even a single moment of weakness would be enough for all of that to be ruined.

It was simply not to be permitted.

"Are you quite alright?" The young man looked up, a little startled, at the sight of Abraxas Malfoy watching him with those pale eyes. As pale as he seemed cold and uncaring, Abraxas was a man who allowed no quarter. Just another reason why Tom could never show any weakness. He would lose a man like Abraxas if he did. The young man was a pureblood through and through and his every action showed it. As it was, Tom was lucky that he was accepted by Malfoy to any degree. It probably helped that so many Blacks seemed to like him. Most days, Tom wasn't really sure why Abraxas put up with him, as tainted as Abraxas considered him to be.

Arching a dark eyebrow Tom made sure to shove aside every doubt and thought that was running through his mind before he spoke. "Of course I am Malfoy. Why would you think otherwise?"

The older boy shrugged. "You generally look ill, friend. I find it necessary, every now and then, to make certain you won't fall over on us."

A sardonic smirk pulled at Tom's lips, twisting them, even as his dark eyes stared at Abraxas coldly. "No doubt you would see it that way. I've no time for any of that. I never have and you know quite well that I never will."

Abraxas inclined his head almost deferentially to the younger boy, but Tom still watched him feeling wary. He would have been lying if he said that he trusted Abraxas Malfoy. But pretending too was a benefit that he couldn't ignore. Tom was very good at pretending. Pretending to care. Pretending to befriend. In that way, he was probably much like Abraxas. He doubted that the other man really felt anything for anyone. The only thing Abraxas cared about was blood and power. Though Tom was still trying to figure out if there was anything special about his blood, he knew for a fact he had power. It was power that he clung to.

"I hear you've been spending quite a bit of time in the library lately. It make me wonder why that might be. Not turning into a Raven on us, are you Tom?"

Tom turned his eye sharply on the blonde-haired male and had to remind himself to control his anger. He hated his name. Abraxas of all people knew that. He knew what Tom preferred to be called. It was a show of power and he could not allow the older Malfoy to win it. He forced a smile to curl his lips. "Everyone needs to visit the library every now and then Abraxas. Knowledge is power after all and it would be rather remiss of us to allow that to belong to the Ravens alone wouldn't it?"

The smile on Abraxas's face turned a little sour and Tom took a twisted bit of pleasure in seeing it. "Of course," the other male agreed. "I meant no offense friend."

"I know that Malfoy. You'd never dream of it," Tom said smoothly. No, despite being from a powerful pureblood family, Malfoy had seen very quickly that Tom had his own allies, his own resources. And while Malfoy could probably win in a battle of influence, it wouldn't be worth the losses that he would take during it, nor the chance that another family might rise up to beat him down. It was why Abraxas and Tom were able to keep the uneasy alliance that they had.

"But there are those who might be...concerned in the matter of your research. Curious, one might say, to know what you would learn and why," Abraxas spoke carefully. Tom knew that Abraxas was one of those who would wanted to know the truth. However, if Abraxa was bringing the matter up, that meant that there were others who could use the matter against both of them and Abraxas's interest lay first and foremost with his family and with their image. It was the Malfoy way.

Tom nodded cursing his luck. "Duly noted Malfoy. I'll make sure to keep that in mind," he vowed. Clasping his hands behind his back, Tom strode past Abraxas, his head bowed. He was lost, once more, deep in thought. It seemed that he was going to have to move up some of his plans or put them on hold. He didn't like either. But he was so close to tracing the line that he hated the thought of giving up.

Maybe there was another way to do the research without it being connected to him. A smirk curled Tom's lips as he turned his steps purposefully towards the Dungeons.


	4. In Your Mind

Zenobia massaged her temples as she allowed the steam of her tea to wash over her sharp features. Her head had been pounding for several days almost unrelentingly. She couldn't make it stop though she had tried. No, she had tried to ignore it, that was the truth of the matter. "Should I find Decimus for you?"

Opening her eyes, the divination professor looked over at the school nurse. The woman had been taking care of her since early this morning when the pain had become too much. She had been sick to her stomach for hours and even now it was hard to keep the feeling in check. She just wanted the pain to go away. And the last thing that she wanted was for Decimus to see her like this. "Please don't," she pleaded softly. "Just...leave me in the dark. Maybe it will go away."

Hester paused, wondering if she should really leave the woman in this condition. She had tried giving her several herbs and potions to make it go away, but nothing seemed to be working. It was as if the pain in Zenobia's head was simply a living thing that would not be killed, only held at bay. She hesitated for a moment longer before dimming all the lights and slipping from the little office that she had used to see to the woman.

Zenobia leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes trying to ignore the pain. Though she was no expert on the human body or on illnesses, she knew that there was something very wrong with this situation. Her head shouldn't have felt like this. It was unnatural. She wanted to curl up in a ball and make all of the pain to go away. Too bad it seemed to have other ideas.

She must have drifted off at some point because she woke up to a cool hand on her forehead, the pain having receded for the first time in days. "Decimus," she murmured softly before opening her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and she shoved herself up, eyes wide at the man before her. He was an older man who had aged well. His blonde hair had started to fade but his blue eyes were vivid, demanding attention even as a scream lodged in her throat. She knew this face. Most every wizard in the world knew this face.

Gellert Grindelwald.

"You look upset my dear," he chuckled softly. "After I was so kind as to take away that pain." He shook hi head and tsked as if she was simply some ungrateful child.

Understanding lit her features. "It was you," Zenobia breathed.

A smile curled his lips and if not for the look in his eyes, she might have thought him a dignified, perhaps even attractive man. But the look she saw, there was something not quite right about it. Something not entirely mad, but certainly not sane or good either. She couldn't define it anymore than she likely could have defined the man who stood before her.

"Yes," Grindelwald agreed with an incline of his head. "You are far more stubborn than I could have imagined. Certainly not skilled in the art of Occlumens, but you could be if you tried. I am very glad that you never did."

Her jaw clenched and Zenobia tried to remind herself not to panic. It certainly wasn't an easy thing. Every sense in her mind was telling her that she should run. And given the man before her, running might not have been such a bad idea. That was even if it could have done her any good. "And who says that I will not?"

He kneeled down in front of her, still smiling as he did. "I do," he spoke as if that should have been quite obvious. I cannot very well allow you to go about talking about this little visit of mine now can I? That would defeat its purpose."

"Well then why don't you explain it to me since you're so certain I won't remember," the woman pressed.

Grindelwald shook his head. "I'm sorry my dear, but that is not how this works. You are merely a pawn in this and the pawns never know the plan, they never truly understand their purpose." He studied her for several moments before sighing. "Such a pity it must be done this way," he murmured as he pulled out his wand.

Zenobia moved into action quickly, ducking aside even as one hand reached up to shove the wand away. She pulled out her wand even as she moved to her feet, her mind pulling a spell forward to send out a call, a warning.

Two spells hit her in the back, bringing her to the ground. One to keep her from moving and the other to keep her from crying out. Grindelwald got down on his knees before he turned her over, tsking gently. "That was rather courageous my dear. I admire that. It is simply a pity that you will not do this of your own free will."

His hands clamped onto her face, keeping her from pulling away even as he forced her to look in his eyes. The pain in her head came back, tenfold as he pushed at the natural barriers of her mind. But this time he didn't stop. He kept pushing even as she screamed without sound, her body straining against the magical bonds that he had put on her. The barriers finally gave way, just a little, a small hole punctured in the defense even as he slipped through and into her mind, carefully soothing it.

Zenobia felt her body grow limp as the pain melted away along with her will to fight him. Some remote part of her mind knew what he was doing and panic tried to bring her back to her senses, but nothing was working. All she could do was stare into those blue eyes.

"That wasn't so bad now was it?" he whispered smoothing her hair away from her brow. "I promise, my dear, that when this ends, you shall be hailed as a hero," he promised her in a quiet voice.

That little part of her mind that still was her own screamed she wanted nothing to do with being a hero for his world. She wanted nothing to do with a man like Gellert Grindelwald. The world that he would create was a world that none of them at Hogwarts wanted.

Even when Gellert moved away, her body wasn't her own. She simply lay there as he picked her up and laid her down on the couch. Gellert pulled the blanket that had been cast aside at the end of the couch and gently laid it over her still form. "Now why don't you get some rest my dear. I'll have work for you later," he assured her.

Panic flared in her mind even as her eyes slid close. She wanted to scream. She wanted to jump up and run. She wanted to do something, anything to make this end. But she knew this was just the beginning and it was that knowledge that kept her own trapped mind company even as her body slipped into unconsciousness.


	5. Honest Lies

Tom captured a white rook with one of his pawns before leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. "I believe you may win this game professor," the boy murmured clearly perturbed by that fact.

Albus felt a smile twitch his lips even as he carefully studied the board. The boy was right of course, but the professor couldn't help but find it fascinating that the boy would realize that already. He was quicker than most would give him credit it for. "I thought you said you were a novice at chess, Tom?" the older man asked as he picked his next move.

"Being a novice does not mean I cannot be an observer," the boy granted with a shrug. "It simply means that my strategy and knowledge of the rule might be...lacking."

It stunned the older man, just how knowledgeable the boy could be. A part of him knew that it was true, but he always tried to deny it. Honestly the boy reminded him too much of Grindelwald. They had the same charming smiles. The same ease around people. It was unfair, however, of him to compare a teenage boy to that of a dark wizard. Tom still had a chance to choose the path that Grindelwald should have, that of a man who used his mind to better the wizarding world instead of trying to divide and conquer it.

"A very interesting perspective Tom," Albus said before calling out the next move and watching the pieces on the board shift. "Though it does not change the fact that despite your claims for a lack of knowledge, you are very natural at this game."

A flame sparked in the boy's eyes for a moment, lighting them as he took in that bit of praise, and then the light was gone, replaced by the rather neutral almost emotionless or perhaps dead look that made his handsome face appear cold and distant. "I thank you professor," he murmured inclining his head slightly. "That is a very kind thing for you to say."

"Kind, but not honest?"

The boy laced his fingers together and, resting his elbows on the table, leaned forward. "I know what you think of me processor. Flattery does not hide your disdain nor does it distract me from always wondering why you asked me here to play chess with you in the first place."

Albus winced internally. So the boy had noticed all of that. Albus would have liked to say that he didn't actually disdain the boy, but he knew better than that. He would have been lying to Tom and to himself if he said that he did like Tom. For some reason he had never been able to truly understand, he had never cared for the boy, he had always felt on edge around him. He had tried to work through that, but he felt it even now. Like a million little bugs crawling up and down his spine demanding that he remain aware of what Tom was doing at every moment.

"It does not mean that I cannot see and acknowledge your attributes Tom," Albus said carefully.

The boy took in the words without replying, simply watching his professor. Albus wondered for a moment, if maybe Tom would believe him and then one side of the boy's mouth twisted upward, pulling his lips into a sardonic grin."I'm sorry professor, you must forgive me, but I find that very idea laughable," Tom admitted. "To disdain something, you can find nothing good in it and you yourself did not deny it when I said that you do, in fact, disdain me. Which can only mean that if you did not disdain me, perhaps you would say those things. Because you do and you cannot even bring yourself to deny it, you are simply a very poor liar."

Albus sighed. "I do not disdain you Tom," he hesitated uncertain of what to say next.

"Yes, you do professor. Perhaps you do not wish to admit that it is so, but you do. You disdain me for whatever reason. Perhaps you still see me as the thief who came here four years ago."

The statement took Albus completely by surprise. He had not thought of that honestly. He could see why someone might think that it was that way, but he refused to believe that it could even be remotely true. He knew better. No, he had long since forgotten about that particular incident. It was true that it had been a large part of his hesitation, but he never thought that it would affect his view of the boy. A single act of bitterness did not a dark wizard make...did it?

No, Albus couldn't believe that it did because then he would have to say that his own father was a dark wizard and he refused to believe that. His father had been a man who had made a mistake in a moment of passion. He wasn't a bad man, just a man who had been misguided. A man who had lashed out when he had seen his only daughter so abused.

"You are not a thief Tom," Albus said quietly. "You were misguided before you came to Hogwarts. It is true that you had no one who truly care for you. The people who should have been your friends and companions constantly ridiculed and belittled you."

"Professor, you speak as if that is in the past," Tom said a look of almost innocent confusion lighting his eyes for a moment. "Such a thing is never behind me. And to assume that it is would mean that I am not required to live where I do when I am not Hogwarts."

The older man's brow furrowed. "Do you mean to say that you are mistreated Tom?" he asked leaning forward watching the boy very carefully.

The boy gritted his teeth and looked away before he shoved himself to his feet. "I mean to say nothing professor," he corrected before gesturing to the board. "And the game goes to you."

Albus looked down at the board and studied the pieces carefully. Somehow during their little conversation he had managed to gain a check mate. He looked back up at Tom just as the boy reached for the office door.

"I'm sorry Tom, truly I am," Albus said in a gentle voice.

Tom hesitated a moment, but refused to turn around. "I am sure that you are professor," the boy granted. "But once more I must beg your forgiveness because I don't believe you."

The boy slipped out of the room and Albus picked up the black king, studying the piece carefully. Tom honestly had ever right to mistrust Albus because there was a very dark part of him that he tried to bury deep inside of himself that wasn't sorry at all.


End file.
